by Joanna Wylde
She stood there for a moment longer, then took a deep breath and opened the door. He stood in the hallway opposite her. Waiting.
“I have to get back to work,” she said, trying to duck past him. He stepped forward, blocking her. She looked around nervously, hoping someone would see them, come to her rescue. There was no one.
“We’re going to talk,” he said shortly. He stepped forward again, backing her up against the door. She fumbled at the handle, damning whatever idiot had decided to install it so the door opened outward. Otherwise she might have just been able to duck back inside. Not that a door would stop him. She would just have to brazen him out.
“What can I do for you?” she asked brightly, trying to sound confident. Up close he was huge, much bigger than she’d realized before. Her head came to the middle of his chest. She could smell him. Male. A hint of something else, maybe the leather? Something inside her uncurled and she felt a tingle between her legs. She was actually attracted to the man, she realized in disgust, despite the blaster. How had that happened?
“How much?” he asked shortly, breaking through her mental dialogue.
“What?”
“How much?” he asked, reaching one hand to her chin, tilting it up so that she looked into his face. His features were grim, strained. The gash of his scar twisted the skin along his left cheek, a dark-red tangle of rigid flesh.
“For what?” she asked, confused. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about the blaster.”
“You.”
She burst out in nervous laughter—this was just too surreal. Instantly his face grew colder, and she fell silent. She had provoked him far too much already.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong impression,” she said carefully, searching his face. “I’m a waitress, not a whore. I’m not for sale.”
“Really?” he asked, his mouth twisting. “That’s not what I saw.”
“Just because I flirt with a customer doesn’t mean that I’m selling myself,” she said softly, eyes darting down the corridor. Where the hell was everyone? “I’m allowed to flirt. I like flirting.”
“You carry yourself like a whore,” he said grimly. He reached between them, slipping his fingers into her cleavage and pulling the credit chit out. “I saw them giving you money. Do you think you’re too good for me? You’re not.”
She stiffened, feeling fury build up within her, overwhelming the fear that had been there seconds before.
“You have no right to speak to me like this.”
He smiled, the movement twisting the scar until he looked like a monster.
“I’ll pay extra,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. He angled his head in toward hers. “I’ve had to do it before. You can even keep your eyes closed so you don’t have to see me. Just tell me the price.”
She shook her head, unsure what to say. He was dangerous and he was armed. Anything might set him off.
“It has nothing to do with how you look,” she said finally. “I’m simply not in the market. Go to a pleasure house, they’ll take care of you there.”
“I want you.”
He caught her hand in his. She tried to pull away from him, but he was so much stronger she might have been an insect for all the good it did her. He pulled the hand down between them and pressed against his groin.
His cock pushed against his breeches, hard and ready. Reflexively she squeezed her fingers, and he gasped. He leaned forward against her, crushing her to the wall. She squeezed again and he moaned.
Panicked, she writhed against him, trying to escape.
“Don’t move,” he said between gritted teeth. “Not unless you want me to fuck you right here.”
Giselle froze.
After a moment he eased back, still holding her hand to his hard length. She could feel the heat of his arousal coming off in waves. To her disgust, she was responding. Her legs tingled and she held back a shiver.
“How much?” he asked again, his voice hoarse.
“I’m not for sale,” she whispered. “You have to believe that.”
“Everyone is for sale,” he said. “It’s just a matter of finding the right price.”
His eyes held hers for a moment; she was transfixed. Then he eased back from her, releasing her hand. She drew it back, wiping it against her apron reflexively. He propped one arm up against the wall, imprisoning her just as effectively as before.
“I’m staying at the Pleasance Hostel with Vetch,” he said slowly. “He’s going off-station tonight, but I’ll be here another two cycles at least.” He lifted one hand between them and reached into her cleavage, slowly sliding his fingers back down between her breasts. His fingers caressed the gentle slopes. Why had she worn such a low-cut, tight blouse? Why had she pulled it down so far? His gaze burned through her with an intensity beyond bearing. She closed her own eyes, denying him that window into her soul.
She felt him lean forward, and he whispered in her ear.
“Take this,” he said, his warm breath sending shivers through her. She felt his fingers brush something scratchy against her soft skin. He’d put something in there, where the credit chit had been. “And think about your price. I’m prepared to pay it.”
She remained still, frozen with eyes closed for another moment. She felt the heat of him pull away, heard him walk slowly down the hall. She counted to thirty, took a deep breath and opened her eyes again.
It was as if nothing had happened. She could hear the distant sounds of the bar, hear people laughing. She walked slowly back into the open, eyes immediately turning toward the table where he and Vetch had sat. It was empty.
“Giselle!” Manya called from his spot behind the bar. She turned to him, and her boss looked over at her, frowning. “Where have you been? You got customers waiting.”
She turned toward him, forced herself to smile.
“Sorry, I was in the fresher.”
“You move faster next time,” he said, his words harsh but his tone gentle. Then his face softened. “You all right?”
“Manya,” she said slowly. “Did you see that guy who was in here with Vetch? He had a blaster.”
The man’s broad forehead knotted into frown.
“You sure ’bout that?” he asked. “We have the sensors turned on. They were serviced less than a week ago. No way would he be able to get in here with a blaster.”
“Well, he had one,” she said. “I don’t know how he got it in, but he did.”
“You see him again, you let me know,” Manya said, frowning at her. “Now go take care of your tables. I’ll let Brant know, he’ll keep an eye out for him.”
She nodded, picking up a tray. The Debsians called out to her in a drunken chorus; she hurried toward them, pasting a bright smile on her face. Black Leather was gone—everything would be fine now. Their bouncer, Brant, was a big man. She doubted that even the tall, scarred man would be able to get by him without a fight. Things were back to normal, and she should be thinking about her tips, not the man in the hallway.
Four endless hours later her shift ended. She picked up her small bag from Manya’s office and headed out the door, glad that it wasn’t her turn to close. She wasn’t up to it. She nodded goodbye to Brant and headed out the door, keeping one eye open for Black Leather. She doubted he was still around, but you couldn’t be too cautious. Blessedly, the open, two-story arcade that served as a thoroughfare through the space station’s port was almost deserted.
Here and there groups of drunken spacers lurched by her, talking to themselves and calling out to every woman they saw. Ahead of her were three men dressed in engineer’s coveralls. They waved at her, shouting something. She couldn’t make out the words, but she knew the tone. They wanted to get laid. She laughed, shaking her head at them. Typical spacers. They were no threat to her, years of experience had taught her how to distinguish between men who were truly interested and those simply going through the motions.
She doubted the engineers would be capable of making it wit
h a woman at this point anyway. They could hardly walk, yet two of them peeled off from the group and lurched toward her. She rolled her eyes and waved them off with a short, shooing gesture. A dark shadow detached itself from a narrow passageway between two stores. She sensed him right before he took her arm.
“She’s with me,” Black Leather said coldly to the drunks, who looked confused. He gave a low noise, almost a growl, in the back of his throat and they took off down the street. So much for chivalry, Giselle thought in disgust. It hadn’t occurred to even one of the engineers to ask her if she wanted to be with Black Leather.
“I told you, I’m not for sale,” she said tightly, turning away from him. He was wearing his jacket now, but it didn’t fully hide the bulge of his blaster. She tugged at his arm, trying to pull free. He ignored her.
“Where do you live?’ he asked shortly. “It’s not safe out here. I’ll see you home.”
Like hell you will, she thought darkly. She was suddenly sick of his attitude, sick of men treating her like some kind of play object. She had worked a long shift, and she was damn tired. Was it too much to ask to simply go home and rest?
“I’m not headed home, I’m going to visit a friend.”
“Male or female?”
His tone froze her.
“Male,” she said slowly, wondering if that might get rid of him. “I’m seeing someone. We’ve been dating for several weeks now.”
“No,” he replied shortly.
“What?”
“No,” he said. “You won’t visit him. Tell me where you live and I’ll see you home.”
She searched her mind, wondering what to do now. She didn’t want him to know where she lived, and didn’t want to lead him to any of her friends. Hell, she’d only been on the station a couple of months. She had acquaintances, not friends. How was she going to get rid of him?
“I forgot something at the bar,” she said suddenly. “Can you take me back there?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it’s the truth,” she said, putting a note of irritation into her voice. “I forgot my keycard, and I’m not going to get into my apartment without it. Let’s go back to the bar.”
She eyed him sideways under her lashes, wondering if he’d go for it. Without a word, he tugged at her arm and started walking back toward Manya’s. When they reached the door, she asked him if he wanted to wait outside for her, but he just shook his head. Brant stepped aside and let them pass through the door without a word. She tried to signal him with her eyes, but the big man seemed distracted. Damn. She waited for the alarms to go off as they passed through the security sensors guarding the door, but nothing happened. Would anything go her way tonight? Why the hell didn’t anyone but her seem to notice his blaster? Disgusted, she opened her mouth to catch Brant’s attention; this had gone too far already.
Black Leather squeezed her arm tightly, pulling her close to his body so she could feel the outline of his weapon.
The message was clear.
If she tried signaling someone for help, they’d pay the price.
True fear filled her as she realized Manya’s might not be the sanctuary she’d hoped to find. Manya and his employees had been good to her. She shouldn’t have brought them trouble like this, she thought in disgust.
“I have to go behind the bar into the office to get my keycard,” she said slowly. “Will you let me do that?”
“Take me with you.”
“It’s not allowed.”
“Make an exception,” he said smoothly. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”
“Don’t you dare blame me for this,” she muttered in disgust.
“If you want your friends to live, be good,” he replied in a low voice.
She quieted at that, visions of Manya’s broad, friendly face covered in blood flitting through her head. Bastard.
“I’ll be quiet,” she muttered grimly. Manya saw them and raised one eyebrow in question. She wasn’t quite sure, but something about his gaze seemed different. Unusual. Did he suspect something?
“Manya, I need my keycard for the apartment,” she said slowly, looking him directly in the eye. “I forgot it here earlier. Can you help me out?”
Manya smiled and nodded.
“Sure thing,” he said. “It’s in the office? You wait right here and I’ll get it for you.”
He turned and walked down the bar into the back room. She stood nervously, trying to figure out what to do next. There was no keycard in the office. She’d had a retinal scan lock put in just last week. Would Manya remember?
Manya came back out, a triumphant smile on his face. He held up a keycard.
“I’ve got it right here, Giselle,” he said. “Looks like it fell out of your bag when you pulled it out of my desk drawer.”
She reached out for the card, wondering what to do next. Just shy of the bar, Manya slipped in a puddle of beer, falling on his back with a startled cry. Black Leather held her back as she started forward to help the man. There was a loud, cracking noise, and then Black Leather sagged against her body, pushing her to the floor. She fell with a thump. Manya jumped over the bar to kneel beside her, lifting the heavy man’s body to one side. She looked up to see Brant holding a metal club smeared with blood.
“That one ain’t gonna be botherin’ you no more, Giselle,” Brant said with a smile. “I don’t like it when people sneak blasters past my security. Makes me look bad.”
Chapter Two
Jerred could hear the people around him before he could see them. There was a burning, roiling feeling in his stomach. Was he sick? His head hurt… Shot?
“He’s waking up,” a deep voice said. He opened his eyes and saw the big bartender standing over him, both arms folded across his chest.
“I don’t know how you did it,” the man said, face filled with anger. “But you brought a blaster into my bar. Nobody messes with Manya. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”
“Back off, Manya,” another voice chimed in. Jerred rolled his head to one side, focusing on a man dressed in a station security uniform. By the Goddess, he thought in disgust. He’d thrown everything over for that damn witch. The last thing he needed was Imperials breathing down his neck. What had come over him?
If he had blown his cover over her, Nicolai would kill him.
Hell, if he’d blown his cover over her, he’d kill himself and save Nicolai the time.
“Sir, you’re been hit on the head,” the guard said, his voice carefully neutral. “It is illegal to carry weapons such as your blaster into an establishment that sells alcohol. Further, it is illegal to disrupt or disable weapons detectors on station.”
No mention of the girl, he realized slowly. Why hadn’t she come forward and accused him of something? Did she want to avoid the uniforms as much as he did? Or was she just too smart to get caught in the middle of something like this? Probably the latter, he thought in disgust.
“What is the penalty?” he asked, his voice sounding shaky and foreign to him. In the background he could hear people whispering to each other. Hell, now he was providing entertainment for the entire bar. So much for keeping a low profile. Fuck.
“That’s for the magistrate to decide,” the guard said piously. “Of course, it may depend in part on whether you’re prepared to pay damages for the trouble you’ve caused.”
Money, he thought, feeling hopeful for the first time. If they were interested in money, he might be able to buy his way out of this one. Manya snorted in disgust.
“I think I could arrange that,” Jerred said slowly. The guard’s gaze sharpened.
“We’ll take care of it after we’ve taken you into custody,” he replied, the tone of his voice warming.
Jerred smiled, and then closed his eyes. They wanted money to make this go away. That was something he could arrange.
* * * * *
Giselle watched as they hauled Black Leather out on a floater. She stayed in the background as the station guards
took names and contact information from the various bar patrons. There were a few who looked uncomfortable, but for the most part the situation was routine. A few of their more concerned patrons had slipped discretely into the storeroom for the duration. Free drinks would be served and damages would be paid. In a week, nobody would remember what had happened.
“How you doing?” Manya asked gruffly, coming to sit beside her. “I’m sorry I left you hanging out there for a moment, but I didn’t want him to know we were on to him. You looked kinda scared.”
“He was waiting for me outside the bar,” Giselle said softly. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sorry I brought trouble back to the bar, but it was the only thing I could think to do.”
“It’s all right,” he replied. “I didn’t like the way he was touching you, anyway. Like he owned you or something. I run a good, clean bar, and I don’t like anyone treating my girls like they’re hookers. We can afford to lose an occasional customer, but losing a good waitress? Now that’s a loss!”
Giselle smiled weakly, and leaned her head against Manya’s broad shoulder. For all his rough exterior, he was a good man.
“You stick around ’til closing,” Manya said slowly. “You can wait in my office, and I’ll make sure you get home all right.”
“No, that’s all right,” she said. “Just ’cause one guy scared me doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself, you know?”
“You sure?”
“Yep, I’m sure.”
“Well, I’m not your father,” he said after a moment. “Not my place to tell you what to do. Sit and relax, though, and I’ll get you a drink.”
She nodded gratefully, and Manya smiled.
It was an hour before she felt ready to leave again, despite her brave words. She wanted to take Manya up on his offer, but he couldn’t escort her home every night. The sooner she got over it, the better. Still, the once-friendly station corridors were filled with shadows, and every drunken spacer she passed seemed to leer menacingly. Things got better as she left the main gallery, ducking through back corridors toward the tiny block of apartments where she rented a room. She could afford better—she made good money at Manya’s. But she had better things to do with her credits.
